The Colors of a Rainbow
by sunsetsoverwater
Summary: Sometimes, it's a color that stands out to Nathan in the moment.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters or this world. I just like to be a part of it sometimes

**Author's Notes: **This is all A/U, but I'd say we can assume that anything we've seen so far in the show applies. This has not been beta'd, so all mistakes found are my own.

**Summary: **Sometimes, it's a color that stands out to Nathan in the moment.

**The Colors of a Rainbow**

From the moment he lost his sense of touch, his other senses had sharpened, which was why he always assumed that colors stood out more vividly for him. He could be in almost any situation, and suddenly a color would stand out above the others. As time went by, he would happen upon that same color somewhere else, and would always be transported back to the situation when that color first stood out to him. It was a similar experience to what many people have with music. Once they hear a song, they are immediately transported back to another time and place where the same song was playing. Music would trigger memories for him as well, but for him, it was colors that always created the most lasting of impressions.

**Red**

He peeked out from under the covers and watched her as she walked around the room. She was wearing his old red checkered flannel shirt, which was much too big for her, but made the best outfit in his opinion. She had the sleeves rolled up past her elbows, and the hem reached her thighs, giving way to her bare legs and feet. He wasn't sure if she had on anything else under that shirt, and the very thought made him flush and grin against his pillow. She seemed to bounce around the room on the balls of her feet – she strong calf muscles rippling with every step. Her hair was tied up tight in a bun, but a few stray curls escaped and were cascading around her ears, giving her a delightfully hallowed look.

Lazy Sundays with her were the best. They always woke up together in a tangle of limbs, without a care in the world. Because of a shared agreement, their phones were always turned off, and would not be checked until noon, giving them the entire morning to just themselves. It was like they were the only two people in the world.

Saturdays were always pancake day, and he would crawl from the warmth of her body in their bed to make the perfect breakfast – the smell of coffee always drawing her into the kitchen.

But Sundays…Sundays had no tradition, other than the tradition of doing nothing for however many hours they were awake before noon rolled around. Most of the time, they just stayed in bed. Sometimes he would get up and retrieve the Haven Herald from the front porch, and they would lie in bed with her leaning against his body as they both sat and read the latest stories from the Teagues. Sometimes they would chuckle at the absurdity of what they were reading, sometimes they would shake their heads in disbelief, and sometimes they would simply sigh. It depended on the day, really.

But at some point on every Sunday, the only tradition he could think of, she would crawl out of bed – most often completely naked, giving him the best view – and retreat into the bathroom where she would take a scalding hot shower. He used to join her, but found he just couldn't handle the temperature of the water cascading off of her in addition to the overpowering mist in the air that the water created, and instead took to staying in bed to allow her her luxury. He would never understand how anyone could boil their skin like that, but she loved it. And then, she would come out of the bathroom, smelling like vanilla and lilacs, and would be wearing his red checkered flannel shirt that was much too big on her tiny frame, with her hair pulled high in a bun, and would seemingly float around the room as she prepared for her day.

Today, the view was too much for him though, and when she passed close enough by the bed, he reached out from under the covers to grab her arm, and pulled her down to him. She landed on top of him, her voice a magical laugh, and he felt like he didn't have a care in the world. As he pulled her hand so that she would lean down to kiss him, he reached up under the flannel shirt with his free hand and found that his instincts were correct today. Underneath that red checkered flannel shirt was skin, and only skin. His body instantly reacted, and he felt her smile against his lips.

He opened his eyes and looked deep into hers. He let go of her hand, and she reached up and tugged the rubber band out of her hair so that her curls could fully fall around her face. He reluctantly pulled his hand from under the red material, and reached up to run his fingers through that glorious hair, and then framed her face so he could bring those lips back down to his own.

Blankets were tossed aside, but the red checkered flannel shirt remained in place. It was big enough that he had full access anyways to what he wanted to feel.

That Sunday, they didn't look at their phones until dinner time.

**Orange**

Being able to hold her hand out in public was one of the little thrills that still got to him, regardless of how many times they had done it. And since he could feel her small hand in his own, he didn't even mind being dragged to the local farmer's market on this day. Going to the farmer's market had never been his thing, especially since he had grown up in town and had been dragged to it every single Saturday for most of his childhood, but when she asked him to go, it was never a question in his mind to say no.

So even though he was thoroughly exhausted after yesterday's insane number of on foot cases he had had to deal with, he was here, holding her hand, in public, at the farmer's market. They wound through the aisles of vendors, stopping every now and then to talk to a local who had a question or two for the two officers. The sun was shining, and even the small children that had been forced to attend with their parents seemed to be having a great time as they chased each other around the park.

Every now and then she would stop at a table to peruse what new crafts were available this week. One week she had bought a hat with a giant knitted flower on it, and he always thought it made her look adorable. It was much too warm for the hat now, so instead, she had her hair tied back in a high ponytail, with only the shorter pieces of hair that framed her face hanging loose.

Today however, she seemed to be on a mission to buy fruit. He wasn't sure why, because he was pretty sure they had ample amounts back home, but he wouldn't deny her her mission. So he dutifully stood next to her as she scanned each booth, and smiled as she tugged his hand towards what must have been her end goal. Sure enough, she reached into one of the crates, and pulled out a large orange that she held up to her nose, breathing in deeply the heavenly scent. He wished that he could have taken a picture of her in that exact moment, because the bright orange against her pale skin was such a jolt of color, he never thought he would see something so beautiful again.

When the vendor offered her a free orange slice, she greedily took it, and hummed in appreciation at the taste. He watched her as she took another slice, and offered it to him, reaching up so that he could pluck it with his teeth from her delicate fingers. As he pulled it into his mouth, he never took his eyes off hers, and felt like the luckiest man in the world when she smiled at him. He held the wrist of her hand that had fed him the treat, and slowly brought her fingers to his mouth, sucking on them one by one to clean her of the sticky juice. He could feel her pulse quicken, and in that moment, all he could think about was licking that bright orange juice off her entire body as she squirmed beneath him.

She must have been able to read his thoughts, and pulled him in for a searing kiss. But his hopes were dashed for the moment when she broke away, and reached into her pocket to pay for a bag of oranges. He did notice however, that she bought the extra-large bag, and squeezed his hand tightly as he reached up to retrieve the bag from the vendor.

The vendor gave each of them a few extra orange slices to munch on as they made their way back through the market towards the Bronco.

Even with an implied agreement between the two as to what would happen later in the day, she didn't quicken her pace through the market – presumably to build up the anticipation so the eventual release would be that much more intense. She continued to stop at each booth that caught her eye, and he ended up carrying a new wind chime that she promised would look amazing on the porch. He couldn't disagree.

A couple hours later, after lunch at Rosemary's, he was able to cut into the bright orange himself, and as he licked the juice off her naked body, he couldn't think of any other place he'd rather be.

**Yellow**

Most people would have had their chairs facing the open water that spread out in front of the little B&amp;B, but he was content to have his face the building. He could see sailing boats in the water every day of his life in Haven, but it was so rare that he could just sit back and watch her in an environment like this. She stood there on the verandah of the B&amp;B, her white sundress standing in stark contrast to the bright yellow siding of the building. She was standing there talking to one of the owners, a middle aged man who had definitely indulged more than his fair share of the exceptional food his wife made for the guests judging by his rather rotund stomach. He had round glasses perched on the nose that was a tad too large for his face, but his personality made up for any physical shortcomings he may have had. He certainly had a way with his guests, and Nathan could see why the man had gone into the hospitality industry. It was like he was born to entertain.

Their vacation had happened on a whim. They had been out driving one day, just to enjoy the scenery of where they lived, and had come upon the bright yellow building. It stood out amongst the other colorful buildings in the area for some reason, and it had called to them. The next day was a Sunday, so they had taken a chance on there being an open room at the B&amp;B. Luckily there was one available – the honeymoon suite of all rooms – so they had booked it right then and there.

It had taken them a few hours to leave their room after checking in - it was the honeymoon suite after all - but they finally ventured out so they could grab some clothes and necessary items to last the next few days. He had called into the station to clear them from work on Monday, and soon they found themselves at a delightful local restaurant where they had laughed with the locals as they enjoyed more than a couple of beers each. They had stumbled back to the bright yellow building, falling into each other's arms on more than one occasion as their sense of equilibrium had definitely been left at the pub. They stifled their laughs as they moved through the B&amp;B so they wouldn't disturb the other guests, and had fallen into bed together, moving as one. Most of the time, their passion for each other drove them to be fast and wild, but tonight was slow and tender. Each touch was carefully placed, each lick was tantalizing, and they traced the lines of each other with their fingers and mouths, further memorizing each valley and peak they already knew so well.

The next morning they had woken up with the sun in a glorious tangle of limbs. They once again enjoyed each other's bodies at a slow and sweet pace, eventually pulling apart to put on the clothes they had bought the day before, and heading down to sit in the parlor with the other couples to eat breakfast. They couldn't keep from touching each other, and everyone else must have truly believed they were on their honeymoon.

After eating, they had moved out to sit in the Adirondack chairs to watch the soothing view of the boats floating by, but she had stopped to talk with the owner. So, instead of watching the boats go by, he had turned his chair so he could watch her. He couldn't blame the owner for being so taken with her – he would have done the exact same thing in his shoes. And seeing her like this, so carefree in her sundress, with the breeze from the water blowing through her hair and lifting her dress against her legs, she was stunning. He couldn't believe how lucky he was.

They walked through town that afternoon, and he had stopped to pick a wildflower from the brush growing on the edge of the beach. It was bright yellow, just like their B&amp;B, and when he tucked it in her hair over her ear, it was perfect. They walked hand in hand down the beach, and settled on the sand as the sun was setting. They sat and just enjoyed each other's company, and he loved the feeling of her warm skin leaning back against his chest as she sat between his legs. It was the perfect moment, and his heart began to beat faster when he decided that this would be THE moment.

He always carried it with him, just in case, and was happy in that instant he had it. He pulled the ring out of his pocket, and held it out so that it would land in her field of vision. She turned slowly so that she could look at him, and he could see tears brimming in her eyes. He asked her that timeless question and she shook her head yes, the word barely escaping her lips. After he slipped the ring on her finger, she threw her arms around his neck and he pulled her close, breathing in the scent of lilacs and vanilla that was distinctly her.

They walked back to the bright yellow building, stupid in love, and that night as they made love, she kept the yellow flower in her hair, and he silently vowed to always have yellow flowers around for special occasions.

**Green**

Her eyes danced and her hair flew in the air as she turned back to look at him over her shoulder, the green bear she had won at the rifle game booth clutched tightly in her arms. Her laughter sounded like music to his ears as she ran through the fairgrounds, unable to contain her excitement of the day. He chased after her, and couldn't help but spin her as he caught her and gathered her in his arms. The green bear crushed between their bodies.

It had been a whim to invite her here. He had seen the lights from the rides on the side of the road as he drove by on his way back to Haven from a conference. For some reason he wasn't completely sure she'd like it. But thankfully he was wrong. She actually jumped a little in excitement when he told her his plans for the evening. During the car ride, he couldn't be completely sure she ever took a breath, as she talked non-stop. She had gone through pretty much every kind of fried food he had ever heard of – and some he hadn't – and had a full debate with herself as to which ones she would try, and which ones should never have been invented. She explained to him that there were certain rides they HAD to ride, and others she would decide on when she was actually there.

They parked and walked hand in hand to the front gate. The sun was already setting, which cooled down the hot summer air and made walking around the grounds infinitely more enjoyable.

Row upon row of food vendors, games, rides and artists spread out before them, and she pulled him from one food cart to another. She eventually decided on a deep fried hamburger patty (with cheese of course), deep fried pickles, mini donuts, and a glass of a local brew. He had no idea how she could stomach that. He instead went for the foot long corn dog (which she found hilarious, so forced him to take a picture with), nachos, and a local brew.

After they stuffed themselves on food that would take them the week to burn off (or that night if he had his way), she forced him to play some of the games. He kept telling her that the carnival games were rigged, even tugging her to the side of a basketball game so she could see how bent the rim was, which would never allow the ball to actually pass through. But as intelligent as she was, she didn't care, and he went through too much money in his opinion.

He was just about to tell her that they needed to get on the rides when she spotted the rifle game. It seemed to be another rigged game, but she was insistent. The aim of the game was to cut the star out of the piece of paper that was taped up a good ten yards away. Should be easy enough for a cop. He wanted to be a gentleman, so he paid, and let loose with the rifle. When the paper came back toward him and only half of the star was gone, she laughed and teased him, even as he tried to explain that the sights were obviously off. She pulled out her wallet and told him to watch how it was done. She picked up the same rifle he had fired, and when her paper came back, it was pure white. No star to be seen. He thought of a few ways he could have wiped the smirk off her face if they hadn't been standing in public.

For some reason, she chose the giant green bear. He didn't know why. He didn't know why she did half the things she did. One of the many things he loved about her.

With her green bear tucked firmly under her arm, she pulled him to the giant Ferris wheel, and they made out like teenagers each time their bucket reached the highest point. They were lucky enough to be stopped at the top for several minutes as people got on below. From their vantage point, they could see all the way to the water, and lights from the big city in the distance. A cold breeze began to kick up, and she leaned into him for warmth. She grabbed onto his waist with both arms, so he pulled her close with one arm around her shoulders, and held on tight to the green bear with his other hand.

That night as they fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, under the light of the full moon that shown brightly through the windows, he could see the green bear sitting on the chair in the corner, and couldn't help but smile at how thoroughly she had shown him up.

**Blue**

Living in a coastal town in Maine allowed for an assault of the color blue on the senses. So much so that it often didn't even register for him. The sky was always an incredible crisp, clear blue. The ocean and harbor water always reflected that same color, creating an endless wash. His truck was a shade of blue, and he often found himself wearing blue colored clothing. He was even told by several people (most of them female) that his own eyes were an incredible shade of blue that anyone could get lost in.

For him however, the only blue that ever registered was the color of her eyes. He would find himself drowning in them over and over again. And they seemed to change color depending on her mood. They would be a bright, crisp blue when she was happy, they would be a smoky blue when she was angry, and they would be a deep blue when she was lost in a haze of lust. He knew without a doubt that that was his favorite color blue.

But as he looked into his daughter's impossibly blue eyes, he realized he found a color that matched his love for that deep blue he knew so well. His daughter's eyes were a perfect blend of his and her eyes, and created a color blue that was completely unique.

He pulled his attention away from the incredible bundle of joy he held in his arms, still stunned that he could be a part of creating something so amazing, and looked over to his sleeping wife. Even after all she had just gone through, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, her face was pale, the hospital gown did absolutely nothing for her body, and there was definitely a tiny line of drool coming from her mouth, but she was stunning. She had helped him to create this amazing little creature he was holding, and he would never in his life be able to properly thank her for that.

She immediately roused herself from sleep when the tiny girl started fussing, and he brought the little girl over to her. As the little girl latched onto her, he looked between his two girls, and was lost in the crystal clear blue of both their eyes. He could stare into those two sets of eyes for the rest of his life and die a happy man. And when the older set of blue eyes locked onto his, and he could see absolute love radiating out of them, he knew he was exactly where he needed to be.

**Indigo**

It had become a tradition with them. They would celebrate any number of anniversaries of theirs together. They had anniversaries all the time. It never really mattered what the anniversary was – their first shared plate of pancakes, their first walk on the beach, the day they found out she was pregnant – and he never cared. They never cared. Sometimes they would make up an anniversary just so they could celebrate something. It was fun, and ridiculous, and deliciously gratifying.

Today was one of those days, but this one threw him. He had received a text from her that morning wishing him a happy anniversary, and telling him she had made reservations at one of their favorite restaurants and for him to meet her there at 7pm. That's what threw him. He always drove, so he couldn't understand why she wanted to meet him there.

He had intended to ask her when he saw her during the day, but the hours had dragged on, and not once had they crossed paths. Not unusual for them, but a little out of the ordinary, and very frustrating when he wanted to talk to her. He considered texting or calling her, but assumed she wouldn't tell him anyways, and would tell him that sometimes surprises are better.

For some reason, his intuition told him to dress up a little more than usual. So, as he got ready in the bedroom, he put on pair of pressed slacks, a dress shirt, tie and a vest. She always seemed to like that look on him, so he went for it. He debated putting on the fedora that sat on the chair in the corner, but figured he could always wear that later for her that night. It was kind of a private thing anyways.

As he drove towards their favorite restaurant, he could feel his heart start to beat faster. Maybe there was something to be said about surprises. He was intrigued as to her plans for the evening. In a last minute decision, he stopped off at Rosemary's to pick up a cupcake for her. It seemed like a cupcake kind of evening.

He walked into the restaurant and scanned the small room for her, but didn't see her. He did notice a table near a back wall however that had a candle burning on it, and a bucket beside it with champagne already chilling. Instinctively he knew that was for them, but he gave the hostess his name anyways. Sure enough, she said the table was his, and led him back to seat him. He wanted to wait up front for her, but the hostess told him it was requested he be seated.

He sat with his back to the wall so that he could watch the front door for her. They had loved this restaurant because of its atmosphere. The lights were always on low, the rock walls made it feel like a cabin, and on certain nights, the piano near the front would host a jazz musician, wafting soft melodies throughout the room that they would listen to all evening as they sipped their wine, and enjoyed their desserts.

He thumbed the ring on his left hand, a habit he had picked up soon after the ring was placed on his finger, each time he waited for her.

He didn't have to wait long however, and when she walked through the front door, his heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. Or three. He was vaguely aware of every male in the room turning to look at her, and it made him furiously proud knowing she was his. As she made her way over to him, he stood up and smoothed down his tie and vest, and looked her up and down. She was beautiful. Her perfect, pouty lips wore a smile just for him, her hair was an explosion of soft curls that perfectly framed her face, and her body was showcased by the most stunning indigo colored dress he had ever seen. The dress started just above her knee, with the hemline rising at an angle so one side was higher than the other. It hugged every one of her curves, and had a neckline that plunged just enough that he could see what was there, but not enough that it was inappropriate. It was perfect. And as she moved closer, he thought back to the blue dress she wore during one of their first dinners together and realized for the first time in that moment that she had bought that dress for him. Just as she had bought this dress for him. This dress was definitely better. The indigo brought out the color in her eyes and contrasted perfectly with her light skin.

He licked his suddenly dry lips in anticipation, and as she reached the table, he reached out for her, and pulled her to him. He rested his hands just a little lower than her lower back, a sign to every male looking at her that she was his, and his alone, and leaned in to kiss her deeply as he felt her hands framing his face.

When they climbed into the Bronco later that evening, he presented her with the tiny white box from Rosemary's. She opened it, and he realized then that he had chosen a cupcake with a deep indigo frosting. It perfectly matched her dress. It was fate. Her smile lit up his life, and she deftly split the sweet treat in two, and they munched on the sugary confection together in silence.

As they drove home, he kept fingering the indigo material, still not believing how incredible it looked on her. He shot her a wicked grin as he thought how incredible it would look on the floor of their bedroom.

And as he laid there in bed, her body wrapped up tightly against his own, her breathing soft and steady in sleep, he took off the fedora and threw it so it landed perfectly on the indigo dress that was on the floor of their bedroom.

**Violet**

"Dad. We should go."

His daughter's hand on his shoulder brought him out of his musings, and back to reality. His sad reality that he wanted nothing more than to escape from. He hung his head and sighed, and slowly put down the bunch of violet lilacs he held in his hand. They always were her favorite.

He slowly turned around, and as he walked away, he knew without a doubt, he left his heart next to those violet lilacs that would forever bloom next to the gravestone. It was a simple gravestone, with a simple engraving, "Audrey Prudence Parker Wournos, soulmate of Nathan Thaddeus Wournos."


End file.
